


Inked

by ami_ven



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsheplets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you mean it won't come off!?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inked

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "mcsheplets" prompt #112 "green"

"What do you mean it won't come off!?"

John winced, not at Rodney's tone but his volume— they were sitting side-by-side on the examination table. "I think he means it won't come off," he drawled.

Carson scowled at both of them. "It's a simple dye," the doctor explained. "It appears to be something like food coloring, or permanent marker ink. There's no sign that it's the least bit harmful, but I'm running all the usual tests. Unless something comes back, I advise you to just let it wash out. Shouldn't take more than a couple of days, a week at the most."

"A week!" Rodney repeated, but Carson just scowled again.

"Unless you want to give me a sample?" he asked.

"No, that's okay,' Rodney said quickly, and Carson snorted before leaving to start their blood tests.

"It's just a little dye, Rodney," said John, tossing him one of the clean t-shirts a nurse had brought them. "You weren't this upset when they did it."

Actually, Rodney hadn't exactly been _pleased_ with the idea of letting them paint 'voodoo symbols' all over his back, but it had been the sole condition of letting them enter the Sacred Temple/Ancient weather station— and John had been too busy admiring the way the artist's calligraphy-brush-thing had slid over Rodney's skin to pay attention to most of his grumbling.

The astrophysicist frowned. "I didn't think something made out of a vegetable would be permanent," he muttered, hurriedly pulling his shirt on.

"Hey," said John, more softly. "What is it, really?"

Rodney crossed his arms defensively. "You may not understand this, colonel, but not all of us particularly enjoy sitting around with our shirts off and being ogled by a bunch of strangers."

"Huh," John said. "What about being ogled by someone you know?"

"I— what?" floundered Rodney, clearly not expecting that answer. 

"I especially liked this one," the colonel continued, reaching over to trace the spot on Rodney's left shoulder where, under his t-shirt, the emerald ink formed an elaborate swirl. "Reminds me of the Fibonacci Golden Spiral."

Rodney nodded. "Right, a visual representation of the Fibonacci sequence, and— wait, you were looking at me and thinking about math?"

"Um... yes?" said John, uncertainly.

"Don't even pretend you don't know how hot that is," said Rodney, then paused. "What does your voodoo say?"

"No idea," John said brightly. "Guess you'll have to find out."

THE END


End file.
